


Wet Dreams

by MintFlavoured



Category: Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Dream Sex, M/M, Voyeurism, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintFlavoured/pseuds/MintFlavoured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is affecting Vincent's dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Written a few years back.

//

A soft moan of air escaped from his lips. His body was so very hot, sensitive, a slave to the pleasures of Cid moving in and out of him. His mind was reeling, drowning in a blissful flood of sensations. He was dimly aware people were watching. The air in the bar was stuffy, but he barely felt it against his flushed body. Enhanced hearing picked up the gentle, distant buzzing of people sat about in the dimly lit area; some were watching, some were standing, some were talking amongst themselves. Everyone had a drink.

Cid’s powerful hips drove home every thrust, but his gentle pace gave the pleasures a strong, addicting quality, numbing Vincent’s mind. Cid seemed oblivious to their location. His only concern was delivering them both to the height of ecstasy. The sweat on their bodies glistened as they flexed and undulated against each other, a constant rhythm. Vincent’s eyes fluttered open, catching another glimpse of the bar and the people around. The lovers appeared to be isolated at one lonely corner of the room. A wooden support pillar stood near them, like a motionless guard watching on in shadow. Vincent closed his eyes again, panting hotly as Cid pressed against him harder in their chair. Long, ivory legs gripped and loosened every time Cid’s length sheathed inside him. He felt wonderful, like a drug user on the best dose out there. Cid pushed sweet feelings into him, bestowing him with pleasures only he could, reducing Vincent to a writhing, helpless addict.

Their release just happened. There was no sudden build up, for it had been accumulating since Vincent could remember. They reached their peak at exactly the same time. He spilled himself between them as Cid released himself deep inside, a sensation that induced a second wrack of pleasures.

Spent and panting, they watched each other, drinking in the sight of their unraveled partner, breaths soft against their faces. Vincent saw the sharp blue of Cid’s eyes glimmer in the dim light, a thin ring around his dilated pupils. And then they were gone. 

Vincent woke up.

He cast his crimson eyes over the ceiling, his mind settled and calm. The pull of the afterglow was gone, his body was at its normal temperature, and he was no longer sweaty and sated. A soft grunt pulled his eyes to his left, where Cid lay beside him in bed, slowly rousing.

“’Sup?” Cid mumbled tiredly, turning over from his stomach to face his partner. He had rolled away at some point in the night.

Vincent studied his face as the images of his dream flashed behind his eyes and his pulse gave a responsive leap. He wondered how he had woken up Cid, considering the man could sleep like a log.

“Yer groaned and twitched,” Cid replied in answer to Vincent’s frown. “’Nother nightmare?”

Vincent blinked and shook his head slowly, still hazy. “No.”

“Uh? Oh… Could have sworn yer moaned,” Cid said, his voice thick with sleep. His sleepy blue eyes watched for a second, wondering what was passing behind those strange red ones. A hand appeared from under the duvet and rubbed at his eyes. “Wassup?”

Vincent was silent a few seconds. “You’re affecting my sleep,” he said quite simply.

Cid frowned, confused. “Wha…?”

A faint – very faint – glint of humor appeared in those cerise eyes. “It seems… when I’m not making love to you in reality I’m having sex with you in my dreams.” Vincent replied in a slow, considering voice.

Cid paused. And then smiled. “Oh really?” He questioned not-so casually. “And where were yer makin’ love to me in this dream?”

“The local tavern.”

Cid’s smiled twitched a little wider as he slid a hand under Vincent’s body and pulled them both closer. “Yeah? On the bar?”

“…No.”

Cid grinned. Vincent was going to make him guess. “Against the wall?” He slid a leg along the gunman’s. “I love doin’ it upright.”

Vincent’s eyes twinkled mysteriously. 

“Hm… chair?” Cid asked. He received a similar glance, but this one informed him his guess was right. “Heh, I’ll have to see about gettin’ Truss to lend me the bar for a night.” Cid’s blue eyes twinkled.

Vincent refrained from telling him about the strange voyeurs in his dream, deciding it was best if Cid didn’t think he had some strange fetish of being watched while they ‘performed’. Or worse, if he suggested getting an actual audience.

“Wait, who was doin’ who? Were you on top?”

“No,” Vincent replied.

Cid’s smirk widened, and the sleepy glaze faded completely. “ I was doin’ the work, huh? Still think it would have been hotter on the bar, though,” Cid said, pushing his face into the soft pillows. “If I say it enough, maybe yer’ll dream _that_ instead…”

Vincent gave him a look.

Cid smirked and moved closer. “I hoist yer over onto the counter, spilling glasses everywhere…”

“Cid…”

“…And crawl on top of yer. I back you against the pillar…spread yer legs…”

Vincent’s eyebrow twitched as he closed his eyes. No, that wasn’t a smart move, now he could visualize Cid’s fantasy.

“…Slide into you…”

Vincent’s breath hitched. Heat was starting to pool.

“…Thrusting slowly, _really_ deep inside yer…

“Cid…”

“Dim lights…”

“Cid, shut up…”

“Bar counter.”

“…”

//

Morning was announced with a bird song. Cid threw his matchbox at the window and promptly scared the poor thing away. He yawned loudly and stretched leisurely under the duvet, opening his revitalized blue eyes to the sight of his partner next to him. He paused. He then grinned.

“Have any good bar dreams last night?” He questioned, propping his elbow in the pillow and resting his head on his hand, enjoying the morning red flush tinting Vincent’s cheeks and the hastily concealed tent as he shifted.

Vincent’s brow twitched. “No,” he lied.

Cid smirked.

 

END


End file.
